


Soul Sister

by junko



Series: Chasing Demons [45]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Clubbing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renji and Byakuya run into unexpected company at a fetish nightclub....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soul Sister

Renji whistled happily to himself as he got dressed. He’d pulled on underwear and jeans and now stood in front of the racks on his side of the storage unit trying to decide if he should pick a different top. If they were going dancing he might want something other than the bulky leather. 

He turned to ask Byakuya if he was still feeling up to more time out on the town, only to discover the captain still sitting seiza on the cold concrete flooring. He’d opened the card Urahara had left for him and was reading it. Renji came up and crouched behind him to read over his shoulder.

The note was written in some kind of pink ink that glittered. It had also been scribbled inside a Halloween card that wished Byakuya a ‘Spooktacular Holiday!” It read:

 

> Dear Kuchiki-taicho,
> 
> Just a quick FYI on our mutual friend. She is safe, well, and far away from Karakura. My enquiries turned up quite the list of debtors which I took the liberty of paying off (please find receipts enclosed) and have charged to your ongoing account (balanced enclosed). Other expenses; clothing, transport, accommodation, all fell within your budget which, I must say, was quite generous. ~~For a Kuchiki.~~
> 
> In the long term, I think we'd agree that any contact between the two of you would be unwise, however I can tell you that the young lady holds much in common with her sister soul. She longs for the snow and to learn how to dance, so I have endeavored to give her both. My hours for career and personal counseling have, of course, been billed at current market rates (invoice enclosed).
> 
> Yours in the spirit of commerce,  
>  Urahara Kisuke

 

While Byakuya looked through the receipts and invoices, Renji read it again. ‘Sister soul,’ that was a curious turn of phrase, wasn’t it? 

He didn’t know anything about the mysterious former captain Urahara, but Aizen had made it sound as though he thought the man a rival. Plus it seemed to Renji that anyone who was devious and clever enough to cross something out in a way that left the insult while ‘negating’ it, wouldn’t be the sort to casually leave off an apostrophe ‘s.’ 

“What bothers you about it, Renji?” Byakuya asked, neatly tucking the loose papers back inside the card. Siding it back into the bright orange envelope, Byakuya tucked into the inner pocket of his suit coat with a grimace, “Besides the price gouging?”

Renji stood back up. A lot of things were bugging him, including the memory of an eagle sharp gaze, but he felt like he was missing several pieces of a puzzle. He raked his fingers through the tangle of his hair, pulling away the strands that had fallen in front of his eyes. Finally, he shrugged. “We trust this guy Urahara?”

“Yoruichi has always put an inordinate amount of faith in him and, since he has allied himself against Aizen, I suppose we must.” Byakuya stood up and dusted off the knees of his pants. “Are you worried for Hisana?”

Renji shook his head. Feeling the chill, he started hunting through the clothes for a shirt as he talked, “No, I think he’ll take good care of her, if for no other reason than to keep you from interfering. I don’t know, isn’t it weird how much Hisana and Rukia have in common?”

Byakuya had been trying to rub a stain off the shoulder of his coat and stopped. “It is,” he admitted. “But I fail to see what Urahara could have to do with it.”

Finding a striped shirt that appealed to him, Renji took it off the hanger. As he pulled it over his head, he decided he was probably being paranoid… but he got the feeling that, even if he wasn’t the cause, Urahara might have been hinting in the letter that he had theories about it. “The guy is a scientist or something, right?”

Byakuya removed the jacket to inspect the stain. “Yes. He founded Research and Development Institute. From what I understand he made the Twelfth Division everything it is today.”

“Scary?”

Byakuya made an agreeing noise, and held out the suit coat to Renji. “Smell this. What have I gotten into?”

Renji let out a low chuckle; he didn’t need to smell it to know the answer. “Me.” 

An arched eyebrow and a bemused shake of his head was Byakuya’s only answer. He turned to deposit it into the laundry basket and began his own hunt for a replacement. “Are you suggesting there’s some scientific connection between Rukia and Hisana?”

“Nah,” Renji said, looking for something more to throw over his shirt. “I’m just thinking that if there is, Urahara probably knows it. I mean, there’s got to be some reason he picked Rukia in the first place, something beyond dumb luck. I mean, this Hōgyoku thing. It’s really fucking important and he kept it really well hidden from Aizen for over a century. Why send it straight back to the Soul Society, right into the man’s hands? And why use Rukia? And how exactly did he do that--hide something inside someone’s soul so completely that no one detected it even when we passed through the senkaimon. I don’t get any of it.”

“We don’t know that Aizen didn’t detect its passage. He was already in command of Central by then, after all.” Byakuya held a coat up to his pants as though trying to determine if the two colors went together. He must have decided not, because he put it back. He continued down the row, the hangers scraping against the metal rack as he pushed them aside. “But, I suspect if Urahara felt the need to move the hōgyuku, its previous hiding place was, in fact, no longer safe. Aizen must have gotten wind of where it had been kept. Rukia was at least a moving target. Surely Urahara also anticipated that we might be sent to fetch her and thought it would be protected.”

Renji snorted. That hadn’t worked out very well, had it? “But that still seems weird. I mean, if Urahara knew Aizen was after the thing why stick it in a person, especially one headed not only back to the Soul Society but inside the walls of the Seireitei where it’s that much easier for Aizen to get his grubby little hands on it?”

“Perhaps,” Byakuya said dryly, finding a coat in a complementary color, “The rumors of Urahara’s genius are vastly overrated and he was simply outplayed by a superior mind.”

Heh. Good zing. Renji couldn’t help a glance up into the corners to give Urahara a knowing eye, as if to say, ‘Taicho just got you back for the penny pincher insult’. 

Turning back to the racks, Renji spotted a faux fur-rimmed hoodie that looked pretty cool. He shrugged into it. 

Byakuya seemed to disapprove, however. “You can’t wear that, Renji. It looks like I’m escorting someone underage. I like the leather better. Besides, a lady at my lecture told me about a particular club we might be interested in where the jacket would be much more appropriate.”

So much for being in charge all night. Renji just nodded and pulled off the hoodie, “Hai, Taicho.”

#

The way the cabbie kept grinning at Renji confirmed it. Slouching back into the vinyl seat, Renji snarled, “You dressed me like a rent boy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Byakuya said, watching the lights of the city rush by with a frown as though trying to determine if the cab driver was going the most efficient route. “I think you look handsome.”

More like tawdry. Renji glanced down at the mesh shirt where it peeked out from the leather jacket. It was so transparent that Renji’s nipples and all his tattoos were clearly visible through the fabric. “That’s just because you like me half-naked… and slutty.”

“Hey, if you’ve got it, flaunt it,” the driver offered cheerily, as he pulled the cab up to the curb. He turned to lean and elbow in the widow and he waggled his bushy eyebrows seductively at Renji, “For what it’s worth, pal, I’d pay for that.”

“Great. Just great,” Renji muttered, as he pulled on the latch to open the cab door and stepped out into the busy street. He hugged the leather closer to ward off the chill and the feeling of being exposed. He looked around while Byakuya settled the bill. They seemed to be in a part of town that attracted drunken, rowdy types who laughed and shouted to each other under the bright, flashing electric and neon lights. 

A woman in a leather corset, thigh high boots and not much else beckoned to Renji. Her hair was bright green and pulled into pig tails on either side of her head. Her face was painted in a way that reminded Renji of Captain Kurotsuchi. She held out a fist full of coupons. “Discount tickets!” she announced, “For hardcore fun!”

Byakuya strode up to the girl and asked, “Is this for ‘Dungeon Club’?”

Dungeon? Did that sound fun? But, apparently that was the name of their destination. 

The girl handed over two coupons and directed Renji and Byakuya inside a building to elevators that would take them to an eighth floor club. Luckily, enough other people piled into the elevator that all Renji had to do was shout out, “Eight for us, please,” and someone else worked the thing. When the car started moving, however, Byakuya was startled enough that he briefly grasped for Renji’s hand. “It’s disconcerting not to see where we’re going,” Byakuya said quietly. 

Renji shook his head, “Trust me, they’re worse with windows.”

The elevator let them off onto a wide atrium that was open in the center to show a view of the floors below. Muffled noise of late night shoppers’ voices echoed up through the space. They walked on nubby carpeted floors past several fast food restaurants and shuttered businesses, following the sound of a rhythmic base beat until they came to the front door of the club. The walls around it were painted black and some kind of molded plastic had been shaped around the entrance to make it look like they were going into a cave. A large sign admonished them to ‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.’

“I thought this was a dungeon, not hell,” Renji muttered.

An attendant checked the fake IDs that Urahara provided them. No surprise, they passed with flying colors. Even with the discount coupons, the cover charge was four thousand yen a piece, and Renji hunted through his pockets until he came up with enough. Even at the door, Renji could smell the sweat of hundreds of human bodies jammed together mingled with the faint scent of blood. 

That last one gave him pause.

Was someone really getting hurt in here?

But Byakuya was already headed inside, so Renji automatically fell into place behind him. It was dark enough that Renji was briefly disoriented, especially since random bright flashes of strobe cut through the blackness like lightning and didn’t allow his eyes time to entirely adjust. The music was almost painfully loud. And there were so many smells Renji’s brain couldn’t parse them all—leather, smoke, someone’s aftershave, the chemical scent of hairspray, and far too many things he couldn’t hope to identify.

Byakuya’s eyes seemed to be roaming around the jam-packed room, and Renji tried to see what in all this noise and jumble captured Byakuya’s attention. It took no time to figure it out. Spotlights illuminated low podiums large enough to hold two or three people. On each platform were various… shows. Barely clad men and women bound by various contraptions and were getting spanked, paddled and whipped. 

“You’re not supposed stand and gawk; if you’re on the floor, you’re supposed dance,” a purring feminine voice in Renji’s ear made him jump. 

He glanced over to see… well, at first all he saw was how a rubbery fabric lifted and accented two voluptuous nut brown breasts, but then, with a flush of embarrassment, Renji recognized them. A look up in to reflective yellow eyes confirmed it, “Lady Yoruichi!”

“Grab Byakuya-boy and bring him over to our table. He’s embarrassing himself drooling like that,” she teased with a bright smile that made it clear she actually approved. “Anyway, tell him he’ll have a better view of the real show from where we are.”

We?

Sure enough, over the heads of the partiers, Renji could see the light reflect on straw-blond hair and a bright pink fan in a corner booth: Urahara.

“Yeah, okay,” Renji agreed, taking a hold of a stunned Byakuya and weaving them through the crowd trying to keep sight of Yoruichi’s purple-black hair tufts that looked so much like cat ears. Clearly, she and her man had come here from the sex shop, probably hoping that Renji and Byakuya would make their way to the club as well.

Sneaky bastards, the pair of ‘em.

Obviously, these two had some agenda stalking them. Not that Renji thought they’d have much chance at real conversation this place, but it might be useful to be able to see the former captain up close. Of course, he’d met Urahara before, but Renji’d been so traumatized by having to deal with Hisana’s reincarnation that he really didn’t remember much about him—besides a green and white striped bucket hat and that silly, constantly fluttering fan. 

As he came into sight, Renji noticed that Urahara was dressed entirely differently tonight. In fact, if it hadn’t been for that clever gaze, Renji wasn’t even sure he’d have recognized him. Was he always so tall and lean? In street clothes, he looked far more deadly than a simple scientist or shopkeeper. The way his hair fell over his nose actually made him look coy, like he was playfully hiding many, many secrets. 

It was a good look. Almost… hot. 

“Where are you taking me?” Byakuya finally wanted to know. But, they were standing in front of the booth now and Byakuya blinked to see Yoruichi and Urahara. “Oh. I see,” he said coldly. 

Urahara scooted aside. Brightly, he explained, “If you sit next to me, Kuchiki-Taicho, you’ll get the most amazing view of the main stage!”

Both Renji and Byakuya followed the gesture Urahara made with his fan. Sure enough, there was a much larger, better lit stage where all number of ‘performances’ were happening. Renji was pretty sure he now understood ‘human pony’ a lot better, and it was much more… intriguing than Renji would have guessed. 

Byakuya sank down into the seat, his eyes riveted. 

Yoruichi, meanwhile, all but shoved Renji into the booth and then sat down beside him, blocking his exit. She sidled up close enough that their legs pressed against one another and her position afforded Renji a perfect view of her ample assets. Not even pretending to make it sound like a coincidence, she chirped, “Imagine running in to you two.”

Byakuya’s eyes never left the show. “Indeed. I should hope you have some reason interrupting my private time?”

How Byakuya could pull off ‘lord of the manor’ in the middle of a fetish club, Renji had no idea, but the ‘this better be good’ in his clipped and formal tone was obvious. Renji leaned back into the seat, content to let Byakuya take point on this conversation. He stretched an arm around the back of the booth to give himself a bit more room. Yoruichi seemed to take that as an invitation to snuggle closer. She lay back into the hollow of his arm casually, like he was her personal pillow. That purple hair of hers was right up under his nose, and Renji got the whiff of something decidedly… sexy. It was kind of a manly and animal smell that hit all the right notes for him.

“When is the Gotei making its move?” she asked. “Who will coordinate?”

At that, Renji couldn’t help but react a little. His slight shift and intake of breath had her instantly inspecting him.

“You?” she asked at first incredulously, but then she nodded. “Not entirely a bad choice. At least you like the boy. Will it be a full squad? Will they be under your command?”

Renji tried to catch Byakuya’s eye, but the captain’s attention was completely focused on the stage. “I don’t think I…, uh, Taicho?”

Just then Urahara lifted his fan to lean in and whisper something into Byakuya’s ear. Whatever it was made Byakuya start a little, but then nod as a light blush colored his cheeks. 

“Come on, let’s dance!” Yoruichi said suddenly, grabbing Renji’s hand, she jerked him up out of the booth. In a second, he found himself in the thick of the crowd, far away from where Byakuya and Urahara remained. While Renji tried to decide if he should make his way back to them, Yoruichi boldly put a hand on either side of his hips and started to rotate them for him. Cheerfully, she shouted, “Like this!”

“I know how to dance,” he snarled, still trying to track what was going on back in the booth. Even with the advantage of his height, it was nearly impossible with the crowd, the dark and the odd flashes of light. Worse, the press of people kept jostling them further and further away.

“Don’t worry about them,” Yoruichi said, shouting to be heard over the music. She started swaying seductively, her hips punctuating the staccato beat in a way that drew Renji’s attention. “They’re not going to be talking much. They’re both too engrossed.”

Renji couldn’t see them anyway. He hated leaving Byakuya with an unknown factor, especially since he’d never seen Byakuya so obviously distracted. But, Renji knew better than to underestimate the captain. If anyone could concentrate on two things at once, it was Byakuya. He’d be fine.

Besides, Renji loved to dance. No way Byakuya would waltz with him here. There wasn’t room, and they had company. Renji might as well enjoy himself while he could. So, with a shrug, he gave in. He let the music wash over him and let his body find the rhythm. 

Yoruichi grinned her approval. She was a good dancer. The press on the dance floor forced them to be only inches apart. They could have collided and bumped a lot, but for every one of his thrusts, she parried--in a way that reminded Renji of a really great swordfight… or sex.

If it weren’t for the shows on the podium, he could have lost himself to it all. Renji found it particularly hard to watch the guy wielding the whip. Anytime his eyes strayed there he was overwhelmed by a desire to grab it from the moron and show him how to use it properly. That randomness couldn’t be doing his partner any good. In fact, Renji was pretty sure that was where the smell of blood was coming from.

Zabimaru grumbled its agreement.

“I think you’re growing fangs,” Yourichi’s amused voice tickled his ear. “Not really your scene?”

“Amateurs piss me off,” he replied, surprised to discover how closely she was pressed as they gyrated to the music. It wasn’t inches anymore, more like millimeters. And, it was no longer possible to not bump with each grind. Renji felt her press to him several times.

A finger traced down his chest seductively. “Oh? And which part are you an expert in?”

Renji nodded in the direction he was determined not to look. “I think I’ve got better precision than that idiot.”

“Mmm? Is that so? I’d heard you were the bottom.”

Not at all sure that he liked the idea of being labeled one thing or the other, Renji said gruffly, “I’m mult-talented.”

Her smile was very lascivious now, and when had her hands slipped under his jacket? Her fingernails were like claws, tracing down his ribs. “Oh, yes, I could see the advantages of that.”

Renji was just about to physically remove her hands when Byakuya appeared beside them. To Yoruichi, he said, “Must you always attempt to run off with my things?”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger! 
> 
> And a thanks goes to Josey (cestus) for her beta reading, Urahara consult (appropriately billed!), and typo-spotting. I ended up posting this before she had a chance to re-read the ending , so any mistakes remaining are all down to me.
> 
> I did actually do research into Toyko's S&M club scene. This place is fictional, though it's a combination of a place called "Warehouse702" and another called "Jail S&M Feitsh Club," which I read about here: [Japan Today: Naughty Nightclubs Not Just for Men](). Thanks go also to the random Tokyo blogger who described in loving detail her trip to an 8th floor danceclub that wasn't S&M related, but which gave me really interesting details about the scene in general.


End file.
